


A Hundred Drops

by chocolatetigerfics



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AUs, Angst, Background characters - Freeform, Canon, Drabbles, FFXV kinkmeme, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut, Tropes, Wordcount: 100, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 03:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9800495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatetigerfics/pseuds/chocolatetigerfics
Summary: Twenty gladnoct drabbles of varying ratings and tropes. Started out writing in the FFXV kinkmeme drabble tree post, then just went on in my google docs. Ratings range from G-E. Many tropes, but I didn't want to spam the tags with 100-word little fics.





	

1

Gladio wishes he’d never learned that Noctis can be kind and courageous. If he still thought the Prince entitled brat, he might not be so painfully devoted to bastard. As Shield, his duty is not to Noctis the man, but to Noctis the _King_.

As it stands, he wants to put Noctis’ life above the kingdom. He wants to steal Noctis away to a world where he can nap to his heart’s content, and wake only to fish and pet chocobo. He wants to protect Noctis from his duty, the one thing that Noctis cannot be protected from.

2

Noctis must be protected from his masochistic impulses. If it was up to him, Gladio would bend him over after training and slam his cock in while Noctis is still tight, perhaps looking for punishment for some imagined crime. Instead, Gladio caresses the small of his back, rubs well-oiled fingers over his pucker and slips into him smoothly, teasing until Noctis spreads his legs, panting for more.

Only then does Gladio line his and cock pushes into him slow and sweet, enjoying Noctis’s breathy whines.

“Slow and steady wins the race, Highness,” Gladio says, when he’s balls-deep inside his prince.

3

Noctis needs to be slow and steady if he has any hope of saving them. Of saving himself. Memories swim around him: Ardyn sitting on his father’s throne. A single tear staining Gladio’s cheek as he learns that his King must die to end the Starscourge.

“Something’s wrong with you lately,” Gladio tells him.

“I thought I did pretty well.” Maybe a little too well. Hard to know how much to hold back while sparring with a younger, slower Gladio who hasn't gotten his tattoos.

“You’re less of a brat all of a sudden.”

Noctis can barely force a smile.

4

Gladio bested King Regis in combat in his own hall, mere yards from the Lucian Crystal, and so the laws of their land entitle him to a slave of equal or higher rank. Only the Prince or Princess would do. Princess Stella would be the political choice, as children would forever bind their kingdoms.

Gladio chooses Prince Noctis, whose adorable, bratty frown melts into shock.

The boy is as lovely as fanciful painting. He is shorter than his sister, a perfect size to be tucked under Gladio’s chin. Gladio’s body thrums with excitement at the prospect of breaking him in.

5

Noctis rubs his fingertips, imagining the smooth lines of Gladio’s eagle tattoo under his thumb. It must have _hurt_ , a superficial ache that blanketed his back and arms.

“What if you get fat, skinny, or y’know, even taller?” Though it’s hard to imagine Gladio getting bigger.

“That’s what discipline and retouches are for.” Gladio smirks, then leans down as his gaze softens. “Do you want tattoos?”

“No.”

He wants the pain, to know what it would feel like to _choose_ it. But as prince, Noctis gets numberless things he doesn’t want, and few that he does.

6

Prince Noctis must remain untouched until his wedding night, so he must learn to enjoy the pain of unknotted heats.

Only Gladio is trusted to bear a healthy omega with glazed eyes, legs spread, back arched, and hole leaking potent pheromones.

“A few hours more, Highness.”

Noctis is beyond speech.

Gladio dips a black towelette into icy water, then places it over Noctis’ forehead. Noctis struggles against his ropes, and Gladio drags the towel over his trembling body as he keens, then blankets Noctis’ hard cock.

Noctis’ pained scream does little to dampen the the lust pulsing in Gladio’s knot.

7

“The women here are built.” Appreciative approval makes Gladio’s baritone more striking.

It snakes through Noctis’ ears, makes his breath stutter, then settles like butterflies in his belly.

“Whatever,” says Noctis, then he cringes at how petulant he sounds. Lestallum’s women _are_ gorgeous, though not as much as the inked feathers decorating Gladio’s back.

“Bet they could pin your scrawny body without breaking a sweat,” says Gladio, ruffling Noctis’ hair, chuckling when Noctis pushes him away.

 _Why don't you pin my scrawny body?_ Noctis doesn't ask because he doubts he can make it come out sarcastic.

8

“Woah, I’m _built_ ,” says Gladio, eyes wide as he reaches for the mirror. “Guess it makes sense if I’m a prince’s personal bodyguard.”

“You’re so much more than that,” says Noctis.

“Yeah,” adds Prompto, patting Gladio’s shoulder. “You like swore your life in service of the crown, and it’s super official and pseudo-religious.”

“Protect the King, even at the cost of your own life,” says Ignis.

Gladio’s eyes widen, then he fixes a measuring gaze on Noctis, frowning as if to ask _him? Really?_

His shield’s amnesia is the worst joke Ardyn has played on Noctis.

9

Gladio’s gonna corner that dance instructor in a back alley and break his fingers. Really, where does the man get off, thinking he can get so handsy with the Crown Prince? Since when is Noctis so obedient, so prompt to melt and relax when a teacher tells him to, eyes wide, lips parted?

Gladio had protested Noctis’ decision to follow that lanky blond friend of his to a school dance club, weary of giving potential assassins an excuse to ignore the Prince’s personal space bubble, but _Ignis_ had argued that a little socialization would be good for Noctis.

10

“This is no bed slave, my lord.”

Well, no. The man’s mouth is bound behind a metallic gag, and no pleasure slave would need such a thing, much less the heavy manacles tying his hands to the ceiling, making him stand on the tips of toes. Every inch of him is tense muscle and scars, and his back is decorated with inked feathers of spread eagle wings. His cock lies heavy, impressive even in its limp state.

“I'll take him.”

Naked rage in the slave’s honey-brown eyes makes Noctis’ heart stutter. That spirit will be a boon to their cause.

11

Those away from Insomnia say “Prince” as they might “Fool”. Noctis breathes easier despite the insult, free to imagine that he’s an anonymous college student on a trip beyond the barrier just to have something to talk about at the office water-cooler one day.

Gladio looks far from liberated by towns’ scorn.

“Just because they’re not behind the barrier doesn’t mean they don’t benefit from it.”

“They benefit less.” Noctis pats Gladio’s shoulder. “No point denying it.”

Gladio frowns.

Noctis reaches up to smooth his thumb over Gladio’s furrowed eyebrows. “You don’t have to protect me from low approval ratings.”

12

Gladio endures The World of Ruin because he does not deserve death’s respite. If he had been a better warrior, a better _Shield_ , their hope would not be trapped in a Crystal while the usurper led him there mocks the Lucian throne.

“You’re not the only one who failed,” Ignis said, the last time Gladio sees him, nose covered in Lestallum’s slums. “Nor the only one who keeps failing every day, but you are one of the few who keeps surrendering.”

He’s not wrong. Ignis rarely is.

Gladio should preserve at least one thing from their old lives.

13

Noctis’ latest growth spurt leaves him with a cracking voice and hands that are too broad for a practice broadsword. His shins ache every night, bad enough that he whines to his father and earns a trip to the royal pediatrician, who quickly enlists a team of specialists.

They find nothing, but they do suggest a break from “overly-strenuous” physical activity.

“You did this just to get out of training.”

Of course Gladio would say that. The bastard probably woke up one day with a muscle model’s build and a behemoth’s reach.

“Whatever.” Noctis is used to disappointing Gladio anyway.

14

“You've been beyond the barrier, right?”

“Yeah,” says Gladio, pausing his inspection of their training weapons. “You never asked about it.”

Noctis is not sure why he’s asking now. “The Empire treating them well?”

Gladio stares at him with wide eyes, then walks forward and lays both hands on his shoulders. “The Empire does not rule Lucis, not even outside the barrier.”

That’s not what he hears from refugees when he sneaks out with Prompto. Niflheim will overwhelm Insomnia eventually, and Lucis’ coward King will have nothing left but prayers that will fall on deaf ears.

“Yeah, I get that.”

15

“So, are we doing it or not?”

The _gall_ of the brat. Gladio would love nothing more than to clobber him, and the way Noctis had been acting since Altissia, he might just lie back and take it. Bad as things might get between them, Gladio won't fight a man who refuses to fight back.

“I’m nowhere near angry enough to fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked right now.” If Gladio needles enough, _prods_ enough, Noctis might _react_.

Noctis doesn't even look away from the train window. “Okay. Maybe later then.”

16

Noctis hates being a prince, seethes at the unfairness of it all, and would divest himself of every last trapping of royalty slimed onto him.

Except for one.

Gladio doesn't like him. It’s not like Ignis, who would love and support Noctis if he was nobody; or Prompto, who hasn't figured out he’s so sweet that anyone would be his friend. Gladio would never look back if not for Amicitia’s legacy.

So Noctis glares and climbs Gladio like a mountain when he’s tired. Gladio belongs to the Prince of Lucis, so Noctis clings to the title and enjoys his prize.

17

“The Prince gets prettier every day.”

“Those pics of him playing in a literal puppy pile? Fucking adorable.”

The comments start out benign, and true enough.

“That _mouth_ ,” a Glaive says one day. “Only way I got through the King’s speech was imagining the Prince sucking me off.”

Gladio bristles, but it’s not illegal to fantasize.

“You’re a moron,” says an older Glaive. “Ready to roll over just because Regis is whoring his pretty son?”

Gladio’s on him without a thought, hand wrapped the Glaive’s neck. “Just because you're a pervert doesn't mean the Prince is a whore.”

18

Noctis’ soulmate tattoo is the most useless freaking thing. _Your Highness._ That might as well be _Hi._

The only thing to do is hold his tongue just in case his soulmate’s tattoo actually is _Hi._. He gets a snooty reputation, but fuck it. He’s a prince and his soulmate tattoo is stupid.

 _Your Highness_ means nothing to him by the time he’s twelve. He barely hears Gladiolus’ greeting.

So he barely believes it next day, when his first words to Gladiolus are “ow, you bastard” and Gladiolus’ eyes pop out his head.

19

“Gladio, d’you know you’re _huge_?”

Gladio wouldn’t admit it out loud, but drunk Noctis is a treat. “I noticed, your highness.”

“Good.” Noctis stumbles into Gladio’s chest and gestures him down, eyes huge and mouth set in a thin, serious line. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Sure, Noct.” He slips an arm around his charge’s waist, eyes flitting around. An assassin could slip into the throng of high schoolers like smoke.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The words don’t register, then they do, and Gladio almost shoves Noctis off.

“Jeez, it’s a joke. Calm down.”

“That’s too bad.”

20

“Could you, um.” Noctis lets out a huff, shifting on the couch.

“Noct.” Gladio’s hand wraps around his foot. “If you want something, you gotta ask.”

Noctis stradles Gladio’s hips, but he can’t look Gladio in the eye. “Could you do sex things to me while I’m asleep?”

“Sex things?” Gladio lays his palm on Noctis’ cheek and turns his face so they’re eye-to-eye. He’s got a soft, fond smile that makes Noctis feel like a puppy. “What sex things?”

“Whatever you want.” Noctis knows he’s blushing, but can’t do anything about his pale skin. He shrugs. “I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably go on writing drabbles for the foreseeable future. Hit me up with any prompts to help along my inspiration :) I'm [chocolatetigerposts](http://chocolatetigerposts.tumblr.com/) at tumblr.


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